Chapter 13 Rowen
ROWEN
Tobias falls asleep halfway through the movie, curled awkwardly in the beanbag, his fist nestled against my shoulder. The soft flicker of the screen paints his face in pale gold, his lips parted slightly, lashes trembling like he’s still caught between worlds.
I should wake him. Forest would have a fit if he knew Tobias was sleeping in my room.
But I don’t care.
As carefully as I can, I crawl off the beanbag, then drape a blanket over Tobias. He turns into it, making a soft sound in his sleep that tugs at my heart. Stars above, this man has been through hell, yet right now, it’s like nothing bad has ever touched him. He looks so peaceful. So beautiful.
Aside, of course, from the thick scars around his wrists. They gleam silver in the dim light.
I grit my teeth, quelling the sudden anger. There’s no point raging at ghosts—I can’t change what happened to him. All I can do now is make sure he’s safe.
I see the laptop on the floor beside Tobias, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I sit back on my bed with it.
After typing in the password, it opens directly to Photoshop, where the last few photos are still open. I use the keypad to scroll, knowing the mouse on this ancient thing would be loud enough to wake him.
Damn. Tobias has an eye for detail. He knows how to use light and shadow in a way I’ve never seen before.
Every line, every frame seems to breathe.
He doesn’t just take pictures—he sees people.
Captures something living in them. Even the still photos seem to breathe, holding the essence of our home.
The worn edges of the banister in the kitchen, the soft light touching the dining table as it comes through the windows, the steam rising from a chipped mug.
Every single shot reveals things even I’ve overlooked.
And the portraits too—they’re incredible.
These people are my family, my pack. I’ve spent the last twenty-six years with them, yet Tobias makes me see them in a new way.
I’m in awe.
It kills me that he doesn’t have a way to use this gift anymore. It’s been the only thing keeping him from spiraling out of control. I’ve seen the way he turns his fear and panic into focus and clarity, both through the lens and here, in the post-imaging.
My fingers hover over the trackpad, my gaze drifting over to him again—blanket pulled to his chin, chest rising slow and even.
Maybe I can help him find more of that security.
Help him lean into his craft and keep him grounded.
He’s got to be bored with taking a million photos around here, right?
What if I found the right person to do it from afar?
Tobias could use a pseudonym or something while working to rebuild what he lost.
Would he let me? Or would he think I’m going too far? I can see the guilt piling up with everything we do, like he thinks he needs to repay us or some shit.
He owes us nothing.
Decision made, I shut the laptop and settle back against the pillow. The house is quiet, only the faint tick of the heater and the wind scratching the windows. I’m just about to drift off when Tobias murmurs in his sleep.
I turn toward him, but he doesn’t stir. Maybe it was nothing.
A minute later, he does it again, only sharper. Then again, his voice rising into incoherent words. He stirs restlessly, breaths coming out in quick, short pants. His hands twitch like he’s fighting something off.
“Tobias,” I whisper. No response.
He jerks again, a strangled noise escaping his throat. I slide off the bed and crouch beside him, shaking him a little. “Hey. Toby, you’re okay. Wake up.”
He still doesn’t open his eyes, curling inward and gasping. “No. No!”
I shake him harder, then cup his face. “Tobias, wake up!”
He snaps his eyes open, looking around. When he sees me, he flinches away as if my touch burned him. His fingers curl around his wrists—around the damn scars—and my heart sinks. Fuck. He thinks he’s back there, doesn’t he?
I grab his wrists before he can fight me. “Hey,” I say firmly. “It’s just me. It’s Rowen. You’re in my room. You’re safe.”
I repeat the words until his breathing slows. Slowly, his eyes focus, and he comes back to me. “I—” He swallows hard. “I had a nightmare again, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Looked rough.”
He slumps back, defeated and ashamed.
“Has it happened before?” I ask, though he’d said again, like this was a regular thing.
“Y-yeah. Every night since I got here. But it’s gotten worse since I found out… what I might be.” He shakes his head, as if still trying to clear the images. “Honestly, it’s not new, though. I’ve always had bad dreams. Side effect of growing up in chaos, I guess.”
Every night? Why hasn’t he said anything?
Exhaustion hums through the air like static.
“Can I sit with you?”
When he doesn’t refuse, I climb onto the beanbag next to him. Without thinking, I reach out. “Come here.”
He hesitates just long enough for me to wonder if I’ve crossed a line. Then he leans in, resting his head against mine. I wrap an arm around him.
“You’re safe with me, okay? Whenever you need to come in here, you can.”
He drapes an arm over me, but doesn’t relax, almost like he isn’t sure he should touch me.
His scent hits me, wrapping around me and seeping into my pores. I can’t describe it—only that it’s him. Warm and heavenly. My wolf lets out a soft, low whine. I force him to settle. I know. I need to keep him safe.
Pulling Tobias close, I fold my other arm around his middle. He curls against my chest.
“What if I’m like her, Ro?” His voice cracks on the word her.
Of course that’s what he’s thinking about. Fearing the nightmares are evidence he’s turning into his mother. But sometimes, nightmares are just nightmares. He’s been through so much; I would be shocked if he didn’t experience any.
Still, it’s the question that’s on all of our minds. What if he loses himself to the half-blood?
I close my eyes and rub slow circles over his back. “Being a half-blood isn’t a death sentence. It just means you might need medication.”
“Suppressants, you mean,” he almost spits the word, like he’d rather drink poison than take medication like his mother.
“It’s not a bad thing,” I try, but he cuts me off with a groan.
“It is when I can’t afford them. My mother barely could, and she worked two jobs half the time.”
I weigh my words carefully. “There are different kinds. From what Red has told me, shifters can react differently to them, just like how humans can react differently to mental health meds or something. There are options. Do you know what she was? What her animal was?”
Tobias shakes his head against my shoulder. “How can I when she never shifted? I didn’t even know she was a shifter.”
I sigh. “Maybe she did. Maybe you didn’t see it, or know it was her.”
He shakes his head harder. “No, I really don’t think she did. I don’t think she even knew.”
I frown. This could get tricky then. Not only do shifters react differently, but each shifter type has its own chemistry too.
“Well, you could always shift to figure it out, right?”
He tenses. “Please don’t, Rowen,” he whispers. “I can’t afford to think like that. Half-bloods are dangerous.”
His hands shake. I pull him closer, our legs tangling together on instinct. Without thinking, I press my lips to his forehead. The second I realize what I’ve done, my breath stutters.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
But he just curls in tighter, head resting against mine, his hand on my chest, like my touch is calming him.
Someone walks down the hall past my room, and we both tense, listening. But the sound fades as they disappear down the stairs. It’s probably Grant or Sage. Both men are up at all hours these days.
I keep my voice low and say, “Try not to worry about it, okay? Knowing Red, he’s already digging through every book trying to find something to help you. He’ll figure it out.”
“What if he doesn’t, though? What if—”
I kiss his forehead again, silencing him. “Trust us to take care of you, Toby. We’re going to keep you safe.” I barely catch myself from saying, trust me.
That tug at my heart strengthens. I will keep him safe if it’s the last thing I do.
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. I almost think he’s asleep until he whispers, “I like when you call me that. Toby.”
“Yeah? I don’t mean to. It just slips out.”
“My friends used to before—nevermind.”
I rub his arm. “Will you tell me about them?”
He pulls away a little. “Logan, Mav, and Kennedy. They were my friends before I got sick.”
“You said one of them died?”
His fingers curl against my chest. “Mav died. Kennedy ran when they attacked. I don’t know what happened to her.”
“And Logan?”
He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer. “I don’t know. He wasn’t with us that night, and I haven’t seen him since.”
So none of his friends went to check on him? Not once? My jaw clenches. I’d camp out by his bed if I’d known him then.
“I know what you’re thinking. They’re not shitty friends.
We just weren’t super close or anything.
” He pauses for a beat. “We kind of just landed together. We were loners, you know. And Logan was a rogue shifter who didn’t want a pack.
I think the attack scared him off. He talked about leaving Prodigy all the time.
Once he heard about Mav, he probably just decided it was time. ”
“I’m sorry. Did you have any family besides your mom?”
He shakes his head, soft hair brushing my cheek. “No. Never met any of them. Mom was too unstable to have people around. Friends or family. It was always just us.”
He says it like he’s used to being the only one standing when the world falls apart, and it breaks my heart. I can’t even imagine. Even when my pack drives me crazy, I still love them. They’re still there for me and I’d lay down my life for them. They’re everything to me.
Tobias deserves the same kind of support.
“Well, I promise you this, if anything happens, our entire pack would camp out at the hospital. We basically did when Evan was there. We took shifts.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, already half-asleep. “I believe it.” His voice is full of longing.
The tension drains from him, his breathing evening out. I don’t move. If I can protect him while he’s awake, I can protect him while he dreams too.
I’ll keep you safe, Toby. I promise.